


Break of Day

by Narcissistic_Ninny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissistic_Ninny/pseuds/Narcissistic_Ninny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was warm, and the world was solely made of Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break of Day

The first thing that came to his mind was that he was warm. Incredibly warm. Dean shifted on the mattress, and felt something heavy draped over him. He opened his eyes just the slightest, noticing Sam’s thick arm idly slung around his waist. Dean was warm, and the world was solely made of Sam. Sam, with his arm wrapped around Dean, his chest pressed to Dean’s back, the steady rise and fall of his chest against Dean’s shoulders with every gentle take of breath.

Specks of dust danced in the golden rays that flooded into the motel room, flittering in through the half drawn blinds -the paper-thin white curtains were drawn though, so they were safe from on lookers. Green eyes watched it blearily as he blinked the crust from his eyes.

Sam was so warm against him, and Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up with such a feeling of contentment. A flush of heat spread on Dean’s cheeks when he felt Sam’s morning erection press against his ass. It wasn’t something new or cause for alarm, but feeling his brother feel that same want he had, the same desire lurked in him as it did with Dean made his chest swell. Sam was softly snoring behind him, his breath tickling the back of his neck.

Outside, traffic from the streets bled into the room, and he could hear some people walk past their window, engrossed in a conversation about last night’s basketball game. Someone hated Miami Heat with a passion.

The motel room stank of semen and old carpet.

The smell wasn’t the only thing that gave away just how old the motel room was. Dean briefly wondered if there was a group of assholes who chose revolting wallpaper for motel rooms on purpose, or if it was chosen two centuries ago and the managers were too cheap to redecorate. He could never really figure it out, and Sam never failed to bitch-face at every hideous wallpaper they ran into, like it personally offended him.

He shifted on the mattress, and was reminded that his entire body hurt. Everything ached, a pain that was bone deep and he almost groaned in pain when his body caught up with his head. They had returned to the motel room during the early morning hours, bloody and mangled after hunting down a shape shifter that had been killing townspeople for over two weeks.

They had both walked away with bruises peppering their skin and dried blood on their knuckles and cuts on their brow. Dean hated shift shifters. Sam had almost been killed by the damn thing, which added to his hatred of them considerably. They both had stumbled into the motel room, both tired and agitated from the hunt.

After Dean had lectured Sam to be safe, to just fucking watch it because Dean couldn’t loose him, they had mashed their faces together in a fierce, searing kiss that still burned under Dean’s skin, and had pounded the hell out of each other until they both fell exhausted and spent on the abused and soaked mattress.

Dean was utterly boneless, in both the best and worst possible way. It didn’t hurt that Sam was still holding him, with his arm around him. Usually he would have stayed, enjoyed the moment, but his stomach was growling, begging for something to eat.

He carefully moved Sam’s arm from his waist, rearranging his limbs so he was able to escape his brother’s cuddle, and set his feet on the floor. He dressed quickly and quietly, checking the clock on the nightstand; too late for breakfast. They had managed to sleep a few more hours longer than usual and had missed the first and most important meal of the day. He dressed silently and headed to the door, turning to look at his sleeping brother’s form, the sheets tangled in his long legs, his hair cast over his eyes, sleeping in the same unguarded and peaceful way he did as a kid.

Dean cast one last look at the form of his sleeping brother before he left.  

 

**

 

The dew of the morning clung to his upper lip, the heat on him like an animal. After spending a few months on the west coast, he had forgotten about the humidity from the south, and just how unforgiving it could be. He had walked to the diner, it was only two blocks away, and he left the Impala parked in front of their motel room. He regretted that decision on the way back. It was way too humid and too hot for his liking. 

Dean walked past baby when he returned with a bag full of food, patting the sleek black hood –even if the hood was scorching hot-; happy to see she was still there and in one piece. It was rare to see baby in good condition after a hunt. He walked into the room -the numbers barely hung on by rusty nails, the paint on the door beginning to chip-, and was greeted to the sight of two empty beds and the sound of the shower running.

He set the food down on a chair near the door; the plastic bag that held their food beginning to steam up. He stripped off his plaid shirt, throwing it on the untouched bed, the blankets and sheets still tucked under the mattress, not once slept in since they arrived into town. He kicked off his boots and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for the remote control.

The shower stopped running five minutes after he turned on the TV. He was watching Judge Judy. She was kinda hot, and nothing else interesting was on during daytime television. Dean turned up his head and Sam was there, emerging from the bathroom, looking so tempting. A smile found itself upon his lips when he caught sight of his younger brother in just a towel, hung low on his lips, drying his hair with a small white hand towel.

Dean could never explain it, but he always felt better with Sam was around, like he could breathe right. Dean grinned at his brother, eying from under his lashes. “Gonna blow dry and put product in your girly hair?”

Sam didn’t rise to it. “What did you get?” he asked, sniffing the air.

“Burger for me, rabbit food for you.”

“Ha ha.”

Green eyes were on the younger Winchester, taking in all the sharp angles of his younger brother’s body. The pointed jagged lines of where his torso rested on his hips, the definition on his abdominals, the swell and curves of his arms and chest. His eyes slowly followed the trail of wet droplets as they dripped down the length of his body.

All at once he felt hunger rise in him, but not for the food he had bought. He stood off the lumpy mattress and stepped to his brother. Sam eyes him as he stalks towards him, keeping his expression vague. When he was close, Sam pulled him close to him, pressing their bodies together.

Dean’s shirt soaked through, right to his skin. Sam kissed him, a gentle press of lips, open and inviting. Dean’s hands made a lazy exploration of Sam’s body, dragging his fingertips over both the perfections and imperfections of his body, over the mass of his muscles and the scars that layered them. It was the way Dean wished they could spend every morning, just wrapped up in each other’s embrace. No demons; no worries about their next hunt, and whether they would come out of it alive.

Sam’s skin was cool under his fingertips, still wet from his shower. So different from how hot he usually was. Sam’s body was usually a furnace. Sam’s large hands gently helped him out of his shirt, his palms flat and spread on Dean’s torso, running up and down his body. Dean simultaneously arched and flinched away from Sam’s touch. He craved it, it felt like he was always searching, always wanting Sam, but his hands were cold, and though it was chilling and electrifying, it still spread goose bumps on his arms.

“You’re cold,” he said, licking the beads of water that had collected on Sam’s collarbone.

Sam nuzzled into his neck, his lips dragging down his throat. He pressed his chest flat against Dean’s, and he felt his heartbeat against him. “You’re warm,” Sam said.

“You’re getting me all wet.”

“That’s kinda the point, ”Sam grinned, gripping his hips and grinding their erections together.

Dean upped the ante by sliding his hand down his back, his fingers slowly drawing down his spine, and he felt Sam shiver. His finger slid past his tailbone and between his cheeks, making Sam moan into his lips. His finger teased at his entrance, his finger circling his hole. Sam pressed harder into him, the grip on his hips tightening, almost painfully, grinding their erections harder.

“Dean,” Sam groaned into Dean’s full lips.

He pushed Sam back, backing him into their mattress. The back of Sam’s knees hit the bed and he fell back, Dean tumbling after him.  Sam shifted higher on the mattress; Dean crawled over him not too much after. Sam’s hands slid up his back, pulling him up. He spread Sam out on the mattress, he was already hard and taking in sharp little breaths, excited. Sam’s fingers worked on unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear. As soon as Sam’s pulled them away, Dean’s cock sprang free, standing red and flushed. Dean sucked in a deep breath, kicking his jeans and underwear off, letting them fall to the floor.

Dean pressed against Sam, grinding him into the mattress, rubbing and rutting his hips. He grabbed Sam by his hips and flipped him face down, keeping him steady as he thrashed in his hold, even if Sam wasn’t making a true fighting effort. Sam pressed his cheek to the sheets and raised his ass in the air, shuddering and gasping. Dean could never get used to the sight of Sam’s tight hole, pink and swollen. His hands grabbed the meat of Sam’s ass, kneading the flesh there, both of them groaning at the contact. Dean spread his cheeks until it hurt, until it _burned,_ and Sam was squirming.

Dean licks his upper lip in anticipation, lowering himself, darting out his tongue, pressing his tongue in Sam’s hole. He could feel how hot he was, how he clenched around Dean’s tongue, like he’s just twitching for it. He inhaled, smelling the musky taste of Sam’s sweat, his hands sliding from the globes of his ass and sliding to his hips.

Sam struggled in Dean’s hold, making a low, desperate sound. If Sam wanted to, he could break free from Dean’s hands, could easily shrug him off, but Dean can read his body and knows when Sam really wants to stop and get away and when he just writhes on the bed when his body is feeling overwhelmed and sensitive. Dean would have grinned if his tongue weren’t busy.

His tongue darted in and out of his tight hole, lapping at his tight channel. The more he pushed his tongue in; Sam pushed his ass back, whining in his throat. He stuck his tongue in deep, rubbing against his insides. Sam makes a little distressed sound, high in pitch, like he’s struggling to hold it together.

The room fills with obscene wet sounds, with Dean’s slurping and invading tongue, mingling together with Sam’s ravenous cries. His tongue abused his hole until Sam was wetting the sheets with pre-cum, rutting and grinding down on the mattress frantically to create some kind of friction on his weeping and aching cock, moaning a low enough rumble that made Dean feel it.

Sam always goes crazy and undone when Dean rims him, using his tongue to stretch him open. His arousal drips and dampens the sheets, and became restless, pushing his ass back, crawling at the sheets, bunching them in his fists. Sweat trickled down his back, and Dean could taste his musk, his sweat, and that familiar taste of Sam on his tongue. Something ignites in Dean whenever he sees Sam push himself back, trying to fuck himself on Dean’s tongue in complete abandon. He looks more gorgeous than Dean’s ever seen him.

Dean loves driving Sam crazy when he rims him. He loves to roll his tongue, rub against his insides, make Sam squirm as he fucks him with his tongue. His hands go to his inner thighs, spreading them apart further, reached up a hand and caresses his heavy sack, and Sam’s body just shudders in despair, a low whine passing through his lips, guttural and needy.

“Shit, _Dean_ ,” Sam moaned, becoming breathless.

Sam groans in a feral way that goes straight to Dean’s cock. He rubs his face into the sheets, whining, all desperate and broken. Dean gets even harder from watching Sam lose it like this, but he just drinks up the sight, savours it.

Dean always felt like he’s been waiting for that the entire time. He just waits for Sam to lose his voice, cry out and say his name unabashedly, without restraint. Sam’s shoulders were getting tense, his muscles scrunching under tension. Dean wanted to see what expressions he was making.

He flipped him onto his back, all at once noticing his flushed face and his hair damp with sweat. Sam moaned into his mouth, lips inviting him in as his legs spread under him. Dean was so hard he could barely stand it. He ground down on Sam, grinding, heat pooling in his groin, hands squeezing and groping at every inch of Sam’s naked skin. Contact between them never failed to make Dean smile, there was so little he had in the world, but having Sam made it worth everything they went through. He worked at stretching him, his choked cries so earnest in the way he begged for it.

Dean’s eyes focused on every crease of his forehead, when he made those faces of pleasure, green eyes trained on every clench of muscles as he tried to hold back. When Sam no longer could, he pulled his fingers out, and Sam gasped. He rolled onto his stomach to get out the condom and the lube, ripping open the wrapper with his teeth and rolled the condom on Dean’s cock while he kissed him. He smiled up at him as his hands slicked Dean with lube, and Dean felt so hot under his brother’s gaze.

When he was slick, Sam fanned out his thighs, and Dean entered him all in one go. Sam’s thighs trembled, and he squeezed the flesh of his legs encouragingly before he began to move. He titled his hips, testing, and Sam’s teeth sunk into his lower lip, hissing as his head and shoulders lifted off the pillow a fraction. He stays in a little, to let Sam get used to the intrusion, and Sam pants erratically, wanting Dean to move.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam pleaded, voice raspy.

Dean pulled out, almost all the way, slowly, and until Sam started to squirm and his whine became higher in pitch, he thrust back in, quick and brutal. He started a quick pace, knowing that he should have waited a bit longer before he fucking him so hard, but Sammy’s cries told him it was okay, it was what he wanted.

The blinds weren’t closed all the way, thin rays of light shining on golden, sweaty skin. Sam’s heavy breathing only seemed to intensify, bouncing off the walls of the motel room, the uneven humming of the air conditioner barely registering even in Dean’s mind.

Sweat pools at the base of his back, at the back of neck, and it trails down his body. Sam is equally as messy, and Dean didn’t even feel bad that he managed to mess him up right after a shower.

His hips roll into Sam, moving between his thighs, thrusting and bucking wildly into him. Sam screams his name every time he pounds hard into him; the slapping noises loud in the small space. Sam started to shudder and spasm under him, and he began to whimper. He pounded into him harder, and the faster and harder he bucked his hips, the louder Sam got. His legs began to ache and tremble, but the pain was only faint, he was far too gone in Sam’s voice, in the tight, hot inner channels of his brother to care or notice.

Dean’s merciless as he pounds into him, and Sam squeezes tight around him, and loosens, making every thrust feel better. He moves faster, hard and rough, wanting to leave Sam sensitive and raw from it. Sam’s face between that of a mix of confusion and bliss, the same face he made right before he came. His cock leaked out, spilling on his stomach and some of his chest.

Dean felt the familiar pull and tingling in his groin, and knew he was close. He moaned fitfully as he came, giving in a few final thrusts as he released his orgasm, his body shivering with the intensity of it.

Sam groaned, shifts on the mattress, looking at Dean with glazed eyes. Dean leaned down, pressing a kiss to Sam’s neck. Dean carded his fingers through the wild, damp mess of Sam’s brown hair, Sam still looking up at him, with that look in his eyes. Dean had noticed the way he looked at him after sex sometimes, and Dean always savoured it, drank it up, because as long as Sam looked at him that way, it was like nothing else mattered.

Sam pressed his palm to Dean’s cheek, and Dean leaned into his hand, melting into the kiss Sam gives him when he tilts his head up. It’s sweet; the way Sam kisses him sometimes, always after sex. Before sex, it’s always teeth and groping and harsh tongues. Dean might love driving Sam crazy during sex, but he loves the aftermath even more, when Sam wraps his arms around him, and hugs him, sighing contently.

Sam laid himself on him, draping himself over Dean so he was covering his body with his own, his head lying on Dean’s shoulders. His weight over him was welcomed. At the moment, he wanted Sam to cover him with his body, to feel the pressure of his mass on his chest, wanted to feel their chests beat to their own rhythm.

The air conditioning made his body all too aware of where sweat was collecting on his body. He felt his brother’s body starting to go lax on top of him, and though he did enjoy the feeling of being draped by him, Sam was a heavy fucker.

“Get off,” Dean said, nudging his shoulder, “’m hungry.”

Sam snorted. “You’re always hungry.” He sighed, his breath tickling Dean’s neck. “I’m going to need _another_ shower.”

Sam rolled off him then, sitting on the edge of the mattress, sighed deeply and started to stretch his back. Dean watched him; the muscles on his back rippling like a ripple in water. It was beautiful, to watch the flex and pull of the muscles under his golden skin.

He was feeling giddy and content from just having cum, and he was far from being hard, yet, his hands itched for Sam all over again. It was ridiculous to, but they did.

Dean sat up, his fingers reaching out for Sam again. Sam turned around at his gentle touch, smiling at him from over his shoulder, casting him a playful look from under his lashes. Dean pulled him in again before he could tell him some smartass comment, placing a hand at the back of his neck and kissed him.  

His brother sighed into the kiss, and like that, the afterglow was so much better, and Dean greedily basked in it.

 

 


End file.
